


Warming To You

by yodasyoyo



Series: Tumblr fics [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Getting Together, Hypothermia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 06:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4596342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodasyoyo/pseuds/yodasyoyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek get stuck in a magical blizzard. Fluff happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warming To You

**Author's Note:**

> idek anymore guys. I'm *supposed* to be writing the next chapter of Remedy, but then this happened. I regret nothing.

“Seriously?” Stiles shakes a fist at the heavens. “Now? Unbe-fucking-lievable!”

“This Jeep is a piece of shit,” Derek growls, slamming his hand on the dashboard in frustration.

“Hey!” Stiles says immediately defensive. “Lay off my car. It's not like your ridiculous Toyota would have handled this any better.” Because nobody badmouths his baby except him. Nobody.

Stiles strokes the dashboard lovingly. “Hey baby!” he croons. “Come on now. For me baby, yeah? For me. You know you want to. We'll take it nice and slow.” Derek looks like he's sucking on a lemon. Stiles turns the key in the ignition, and the engine sputters weakly before cutting out completely.

He turns the key again and again. Nothing.

Well fuck.

Derek huffs out a frustrated breath next to him. The temperature outside is dropping quickly. Snow is falling thick and fast, and now his Jeep has died and they're stuck.

Stuck in the middle of nowhere.

With a Frost Giant on the loose.

Hence the snowstorm.

The _magical_ snowstorm.

In California.

In the middle of July.

Stiles hugs himself trying to keep warm, it's not really working.

“F-fine,” Stiles grinds out. “If that's how you want to play it.” He fumbles to open the door, but Derek's hand shoots out to stop him.

“Where do you think you're going?” Derek says incredulously.

“T-to f-f-ix the f-f-ucking car g-genius,” Stiles says as sarcastically as possible through chattering teeth.

“In this?” Derek glances out of the window at the swirling snow flurries that are now settling in little drifts on the windscreen. “You're wearing a goddamn t-shirt Stiles.”

“Y-y-y-ou h-h-h-ave a b-b-b-better i-i-dea?” Stiles is shivering in earnest now and he's pretty sure his lips are turning the same color as the exterior of his Jeep.

“You have any blankets in the back?” Derek asks looking around.

“Y-yeah. A-a-a-always e-e-e-specially in J-july.” Stiles snarks, but the effect is lost on Derek who's looking around in frustration.

Derek begins pulling off his leather jacket, which he always wears whatever the weather. “Here,” he says roughly. “Take this."

Stiles takes it with trembling hands and puts it on quickly. It's warm, so warm and it smells like Derek. Which, gun to his head, it's a good smell. A really good smell. Maybe his favorite smell. Not that he'd ever admit it. He pulls it tightly around himself, nestling into it.

“D-don't think I've forgiven y-you for wh-what you said about R-Roscoe.” Is what he actually says out loud.

“Who's Roscoe?” Derek asks in confusion.

Stiles rolls his eyes so hard they nearly fall out of his head. “M-my J-jeep dude. S-seriously? How long have we known each other? It's been six years.” He's warming up a little, Derek's residual body heat lingers in the jacket making it quite toasty.

Derek shakes his head. “You named your car?” he says with incredulity.

“You _didn't_ name yours? I mean I understand not naming the Toyota but the Camaro? Really?"

Derek looks shifty. “No! No. Why would anyone do that?”

Stiles is currently enjoying the warmth of Derek's jacket, so he generously decides not to call him out on such an outrageous lie. “Whatever dude.”

Derek's not listening though. Instead he's got his phone out and is wafting it around the car obviously trying to find cell reception in a _magical blizzard_ . Stiles snorts derisively.

“We need to get out of here” Derek says after a minute of failed experimentation with his phone.

“In this?” Stiles says. “There's heavy sn-snow and a Frost Giant on the loose.”

“Yes” Derek replies with heavy sarcasm. “But it's the middle of the night, only one of us thought to bring a jacket, we have no way of knowing when this storm will stop, no blankets and the temperature in this car is dropping by the second. I know I run a hotter than you, but if we stay here we're both going to risk hypothermia.”

Right.

Good point.

Or points. You know, whatever.

“Wh-where would we g-go?” Stiles asks, his teeth are chattering again. It's probably not a good sign.

“We passed a b-barn about half-a-mile back. W-we'll head there,” Derek says. He's developing gooseflesh on his bare arms, Stiles notes with a kind of horrified fascination. He's never seen Derek cold before. On balance it's probably _not_ a good sign. Huh.

“Y-you w-want your c-coat b-back?” Stiles stutters out, he's starting to feel chilly again. The temperature is dropping _quickly_.

Derek manages to look pissed at his offer, despite or perhaps _because_ of the fact that his teeth are actually beginning to chatter too. Maybe he feels it's a sign of weakness. “D-d-don't b-be s-s-stupid.”

They scrabble around the car getting the meagre supplies, a flashlight a can of Dr Pepper and a Three Musketeers bar. That's about it actually. Stiles was so well prepared for this impromptu Frost Giant hunt. Seriously.

“R-r-ready?” Stiles stammers his breath now coming out like little puffs of cloud.

Derek nods, clearly not willing to embarrass himself any further by speaking. God knows he wouldn't want to actually appear cold while wearing a t-shirt in a magical blizzard. That level of stubborness is kind of impressive actually, and also kind of stupid.

Stiles goes to open his door and it's frozen shut. He swears creatively under his breath fumbling helplessly until Derek just leans across and forces it open.

Fucking werewolf strength.

Stiles can't see much at all, but he feels his way round to the back of the Jeep, and suddenly there's Derek attempting to loom in front of him. He's actually just shivering violently whilst glaring angrily. It's not as effective as his usual looming. Stiles might mention it if he wasn't busy freezing his _fucking ass off._

“T-think y-you c-can f-find t-the w-way?” Stiles yells, it seems to get lost in the wind but Derek obviously hears him. He grabs Stiles hand and starts to lead him away. His fingers are like ice, not that Stile's are any better, and if they let go of each other then they're not gonna find each other again.

Stiles can feel the cold in his bones as he huddles under the jacket, it's not actually doing anything to help him now. The wind is bitterly cold and it's all he can do take a breath in the face of it. He keeps stumbling over uneven ground because he can't see where he's going and he can't move nearly as quickly as Derek. Derek, who seems nearly as cold as Stiles is now, despite running extra hot because he's a werewolf.

By the time he trips over for about the fifth time Derek just stops and huffs in frustration. He leans over and shouts in Stiles ear. “C-c-climb o-o-on.” He moves in front of Stiles and crouches forward slightly and suddenly Stiles gets it. He wraps his arms around Derek's neck and jumps onto his back, wrapping his legs as tightly as he can around Derek's waist.

Once Derek is sure that he's secure, he starts to run. Proper, speedy, werewolf running. Stiles is clinging to his back like the world biggest and most unwieldy baby koala just without the soft fur and tufty ears. It is deeply, deeply uncomfortable and Stiles feels like his poor frozen bones are going to splinter. He holds on for dear life though. His teeth are chattering so badly in counterpoint to the rhythm of Derek running that he actually bites his tongue. The metallic taste of his own blood floods his mouth. At least they're a bit warmer now they're sharing body heat though and they're moving a lot quicker. So all in all it's a win.

It feels like ages but it's probably only a few minutes before Derek is slowing down and then pulling open a large door to what is... yep... definitely some kind of barn. They tumble inside and Stiles dismounts awkwardly, he's too cold to feel much at the moment, but he's sure there will be bruises tomorrow. His flashlight pierces the darkness and Stiles looks around. It's bitterly cold in here too. There are bales of straw stacked up on one side and a tractor parked kind of centrally. Derek has no problem seeing without the flashlight and disappears off in the back. He returns quickly with a couple of worn looking army blankets and a storm lamp. Stiles is still shivering but he follows Derek dutifully to the hay wrapping his arms around himself in a vain attempt to conserve heat.

“Th-the h-hay sh-should help keep us w-warm,” Derek says. “T-the b-blankets too b-but w-we p-probably need to...”

Stiles knows where this is going. There's one thing every survival show he's ever watched has taught him to prepare for this moment and he's half dreading it. He knows, he just knows that if he tries to get cosy with Derek Hale for survival purposes his body is _going_ to betray him. The awkwardest of awkward boners is  _going_ to happen, if he ever gets warm again.

“B-b-body-h-heat?” He manages to stutter. Derek nods curtly looking as uncomfortable as Stiles feels.

They don't speak much. It's just too cold and they both need to conserve energy. Working in silence they both hollow out a little space in the pile of straw and lay one of the blankets down in it. Derek folds up his jacket into a make shift pillow. Then there's nothing left to do but go for it.

They look at each other awkwardly each one willing the other to start first. In the end Stiles just huffs and starts to peel off his t-shirt. He undoes his belt and pulls down his pants.

“K-k-keeping m-m-my u-underwear o-on,” he says partly to reassure Derek, and partly out of disbelief that he's finally managed to get into a bed with Derek Hale and it's _not_ for sexy times. Fuck his life.

Derek huffs and starts to strip too. He's more efficient then Stiles and soon there both standing there in their underwear, freezing their asses off.

“G-get i-in,” Derek says gruffly and Stiles lies down awkwardly on the makeshift nest.

Derek hesitates before laying down next to him and pulling the other blanket over them. He then lays all their discarded clothes out on top of the blanket – an extra layer to ward off the cold and then rustles around piling some of the extraneous straw on top of that. It'll get into their clothes and probably make things really uncomfortable for them tomorrow but at least they'll _have_ a tomorrow now.

Stiles is still shivering violently. He's actually feeling worse, like being out in the storm is catching up with him. He wraps his arms round himself and tries to force himself to stop shaking so much. It doesn't help that Dereks warming up quickly and he feels like a blast furnace. All Stiles wants to do is snuggle up next to him, until the cold stops.

He doesn't want to ask though. He's had the biggest crush on Derek for years now, since before he went to college. It's more then a crush really. Crushes don't last through High School, College and your first job. Whatever.

Derek must know that he likes him, but he's never mentioned it or appeared to return his feelings, and Stiles hasn't wanted to ruin their friendship by acting on it, so there we are. Also Stiles would apparently rather freeze to death then make Derek uncomfortable by popping an awkward boner due to life saving snuggles. So he lays there shivering quietly, trying to die with the minimum of fuss.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels Derek's hand warm and strong resting on his shoulder.

“Wh-what?” He manages to sputter.

Derek looks aggressively uncomfortable. His eyes dart everywhere, studiously avoiding Stiles face. “You're cold.” He finally says gruffly. “I- I could help with that. If you want.”

Stiles twists round to look at him a little better in the dim light of the storm lantern.

“O-o-okay,” he says finally.

Derek eyebrows go through some complicated gymnastics that seem to suggest he is both terrified and relieved by this response. He raises his hand and pulls Stiles toward him tightly, Stiles back to his front, wrapping his arms tightly round him like Stiles is his favourite teddy bear. The heat is pouring off Derek and Stiles body is absorbing it all like a greedy little sponge. It's amazing.

Stiles exhales and lets his head fall back against Derek's shoulder. “Dude. Y-you a-are a-amazing. That is s-soo m-much b-better.”

Derek huffs through his nose in a way that Stiles knows means he's trying not to laugh.

It's been a long day and Stiles can feel sleep stealing over him while he lies warm and safe in Derek's arms. Without even noticing it, he's half dreaming that they aren't holed up in some barn cuddling to save their lives. They're at Derek's apartment and he's here, holding Stiles close because he wants to, not because he _has_ to.

“Night Der'k,” Stiles mutters burrowing back into Derek's arms as he drifts off.

Derek's arms tighten, drawing him in more and then he swears he feels the barest press of lips to the nape of his neck.

He's too tired to keep his eyes open though, and before he knows it he's asleep.

 

o0o

 

In the morning it turns out Stiles was right. He almost always is.

There are awkward boners when they wake up, and he has about thirty seconds of mortification before it's clear it's not just him. Suddenly lying there, warm bodies and soft skin, pressed together in each others arms their boners aren't so awkward any more.

They're very much not awkward in fact, right until the point that Scott walks in on them. He's dealt with the Frost Giant, found the Jeep and tracked them down. He's even brought them fresh clothes, because he is a bro. The prince of all bros. And yeah, he's a bit disturbed to walk in on his beta and his best friend making sure their sexual tension is thoroughly resolved (for the third time that morning), but he's happy for them and he gets over it soon enough.

Stiles and Derek are happy and disgustingly domestic but it isn't until their one year anniversary that Derek finally admits that he called the Camaro Angelina.

Stiles isn't mad because he has Derek now, and besides he fucking called it.

 

 

o0o  
  
  
  
**Ok. So that happened. I've procrastinated enough and I'm going back to write chapter 3 of Remedy.**  
I have other sterek fic... if you liked this try [these](http://archiveofourown.org/users/yodasyoyo/works).  
**I love kudos, comments and even concrit. This is unbetaed, so if you spot any errors then let me know!**

**Also[Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/yodas-yo-yo) is a thing I do. Come say hi!**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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